A Killing Moon

by Dunne, Steven

  ‘That was the Doc,’ shouted Red. ‘Get cleaned up. We’ve got a new girl.’

  Zeke grinned. ‘The Lord will provide. When?’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Now?’ said Zeke, setting down the pan and removing his apron. ‘But we haven’t scoped her out. Who is it?’

  ‘Unknown, but the Doc has a line on her and says it’s an emergency.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘Neither do I, but with a baby to save, we do as we’re told, right?’ said Red.

  ‘What about the pick-up spot?’

  ‘The Doc says it’s perfect. No one knows she’s there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Tell you on the way.’

  ‘Sorry, boys.’ Zeke called across to the pen. ‘You’ll have to make do with pig nuts until tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s full of holes,’ said Noble, reading through a copy of Tanner’s confession.

  Wearily Brook turned a page of the original. ‘You should go home before you lose another night’s sleep, John.’

  ‘I’ll follow you out for a change,’ replied Noble, not looking up from Tanner’s statement. ‘Jake knows just enough to convict himself – the cleaning, the cause of death. Is it possible he did it?’

  ‘He was coached,’ said Brook. ‘He didn’t take a shower, so why clean the trap and why risk moving the body? The moment he stole Max’s van, he put himself in our sights. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘So you think …’

  ‘I think he stole the van not realising the body was already in there.’

  Noble concentrated hard. ‘Okay. But here’s what I don’t understand. If Max did kill Kassia … in her flat … why would he move the body? Surely it makes just as much sense for him to leave Kassia where she is.’

  ‘That is a very good question.’

  ‘I’ve got a better one. Having taken the decision to move the body, why the hell would he leave it in his van?’

  Brook flicked through Tanner’s statement. A few moments later, he covered his face with his hands. ‘Christ! What an idiot.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Me! Listen to this. “The van was unlocked so I got in. The key for the ignition was on the floor in front of the driver’s seat. I signalled Nick to get in and we drove away.”’

  ‘Max didn’t lock the van?’

  Brook slumped forward to rub his eyes. He took a minute to think it through. ‘I’ve been so blind. He’s been at least two steps ahead all the way.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Brook. ‘Max wouldn’t kill Kassia and leave the body outside his flat in an unlocked van – nobody’s that stupid.’

  ‘So if Max didn’t move the body …’

  ‘… then he didn’t kill her.’

  ‘So all that business with the hammer and the blowtorch?’ said Noble.

  ‘Same objection I made to Jake,’ said Brook. ‘Why go to all that trouble to burn off her tattoo and prints and disfigure her when she’s already invisible?’

  ‘It wasn’t done to hide her identity?’

  Brook shook his head. ‘It was done to suggest an identity – the killer’s.’

  ‘Max.’

  ‘Exactly. Max’s blowtorch and hammer, the van too – all used to implicate him. And the victim was stripped to make it look like a sex crime to point to Max’s history.’

  ‘But Kassia hadn’t had sex.’

  ‘Because it wasn’t about sex, John. It was a crime of passion – her head injuries tell us that. But it wasn’t passion for Kassia.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘It was passion for what she carried.’

  ‘The baby?’

  ‘The baby,’ repeated Brook. ‘Damn it, I should have realised when we checked the Rutherford staff for anyone who’d lost a child.’

  ‘Ostrowsky’s wife and baby died in childbirth,’ suggested Noble.

  ‘And he never remarried,’ said Brook.

  ‘He’s single, good-looking and successful,’ continued Noble, nodding. ‘He met Kassia somehow and she fell for him. Why wouldn’t she, living in a poky flat a long way from home? They had an affair.’

  ‘Hardly an affair, John. I suspect their relationship was largely sexual. But when Kassia became pregnant, Ostrowsky fell in love with the idea of replacing the child he’d lost …’

  ‘But Kassia decides to have an abortion.’

  ‘When she tells him her plans, she doesn’t realise the anguish it causes him,’ said Brook. ‘To lose a second child after the death of a first. It’s against his religion and his instinct to father a child at last.’

  ‘He would have tried to change her mind …’

  ‘No doubt. Maybe he even threatened her, but Kassia must’ve realised he didn’t love her. She refused, and when she left the clinic the night she was scheduled to have the procedure, he killed her.’

  ‘But she didn’t abort the child,’ argued Noble.

  ‘But he doesn’t know that,’ said Brook. ‘Either she doesn’t tell him or, blinded by rage, he doesn’t give her a chance to speak.’

  ‘Killing his own child,’ said Noble, shaking his head. ‘You could almost feel sorry for him.’

  ‘Don’t. He was smart enough to wait until she arrived back at the flat and cold enough to disfigure her corpse and frame his brother.’

  ‘But he couldn’t cover his shock when we told him Kassia was pregnant,’ said Noble.

  ‘Under the circumstances, I’m surprised he held it together that well.’

  ‘It all makes sense. But why would he implicate his own brother?’

  ‘Because Max is a sexual predator.’

  ‘We don’t know that,’ said Noble. ‘He’s never been charged.’

  ‘Only because Greg’s been covering for him over the years.’

  ‘Then why stop now?’

  ‘Ostrowsky thinks himself a religious man,’ said Brook. ‘And to a religious man, Max’s recent behaviour is not just an embarrassment but an affront to God.’

  ‘Recent behaviour?’

  ‘Max is bisexual.’

  ‘What? Are you sure?’

  ‘Pretty sure. Ironic that what was happening between Nick and Max was the final straw for both Ostrowsky and Jake.’

  ‘Nick and Max?’ repeated Noble.

  ‘Remember when Jake started at Bar Polski, he took Nick along while he worked. I’m guessing Max started grooming Nick the minute he saw him. With special needs, Nick would’ve been flattered by the attention, and maybe even by money and gifts. Who knows? I suspect he is suggestible; he’ll do things he doesn’t understand because it makes him feel popular.’

  ‘And Jake starts to suspect and stops taking his brother to work,’ said Noble.

  ‘And starts thinking of how to send Max a message.’

  ‘By stealing his van.’

  ‘I doubt there was a set plan, but once he finds the van unlocked, it’s hard not to steal it,’ said Brook. ‘What Jake doesn’t know is that he’s blundered into Ostrowsky’s plan to frame his degenerate brother. It’s all there in Jake’s past. The assault on a homosexual that landed him in prison – the only violent act on his record – a reaction in defence of a brother unable to understand consent, unable to comprehend what some people might want from an attractive young boy. Remember the sleeping bag at the Cream Bar …’

  ‘Max’s?’

  Brook nodded. ‘The vodka, too.’

  ‘But how did Max get his stuff into the Cream Bar?’ said Noble.

  ‘I found the keys. There wasn’t time to tell you.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In your desk. You hadn’t booked them into evidence.’

  ‘The keys from the burnt-out van?’ Noble was confused. ‘So Jake dropped them when he stole the van.’

  ‘SOCO found them in the back of the van, John.’ Brook arched an eyebrow. ‘Max’s van. If Jake mislaid them during the theft, they’d be near the driver’s seat. Max had the keys.’

  ‘How?’r />
  ‘Probably Nick took them and gave them to him so they could have somewhere to meet and have sex.’

  ‘But if the keys were in the burnt-out van, Jake couldn’t have been in the Cream.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Unless he climbed in.’

  ‘Admit to murder but deny an assault? No. He was telling the truth.’

  ‘Then who assaulted Ryan and Banach? Max?’

  ‘Why would he?’ asked Brook.

  ‘Maybe he went there looking for Nick.’

  ‘But Max knew the keys to the Cream were in his van, which by then was in the police pound. And there was someone with a more compelling reason for finding Jake and Nick.’

  ‘Ostrowsky,’ nodded Noble.

  ‘And when the news conference told him that Jake and Nick had stolen his van, he set his people on their trail. His bodyguard …’ Brook clicked his fingers.

  ‘Tymon.’

  ‘Tymon went to the Cream looking for Jake,’ said Brook. ‘And it was Tymon who went to Arboretum Street to take the van after Max had parked up for the night. Ostrowsky owns it; he’d have spare keys. So if Tymon’s challenged, it’s not even stealing. Then he drives to Kassia’s flat and takes Max’s hammer and blowtorch from the van to disfigure the body. He wraps her body in a plastic sheet …’

  ‘Why not just use the bed sheets?’

  ‘They’re not transparent, John. With plastic, anybody investigating the van will see immediately that there’s a body. It’s a frame-up, remember. That’s why Tymon replaces the tools in the van and drives back to Arboretum Street with Kassia’s body. He leaves the van unlocked and sometime later returns to the flat to clean up.’

  ‘So when Kassia’s flat was cleaned, it was to cover up Ostrowsky’s presence.’

  ‘His DNA would be everywhere. The shower, her clothes …’

  ‘You’ve got to hand it to Ostrowsky. It’s brilliant.’

  ‘He must have got the shock of his life when we turned up to tell him his van had been stolen. His plan was in ruins and he needed a new one, and quickly. Fortunately for him, he has Jake – a convicted criminal and the perfect fall-guy. All he needed was leverage.’

  ‘Nick,’ nodded Noble. ‘Where do you think they’re holding him?’

  ‘The warehouse in Pride Park has got to be favourite.’

  ‘We should—’

  ‘Charlton would never sign off on a raid,’ said Brook. ‘And even if we find Nick there, we still wouldn’t have enough to touch Ostrowsky.’

  ‘We’d have Nick at least,’ said Noble. ‘Then Jake might cooperate, testify that Ostrowsky coached him.’

  ‘All that gets us is proof that he’s protecting Max,’ said Brook.

  ‘Catching Ostrowsky in a lie would be a start, at least. And with Jake’s testimony we could link Kassia to Bar Polski …’

  ‘Which just ties her closer to Max or Jake,’ said Brook. ‘We need Max and Tymon.’

  ‘Which is why Ostrowsky wants them out of the country,’ said Noble. ‘Wait. Why do we need evidence that Ostrowsky killed Kassia when we could put him away for kidnapping Nick?’

  ‘Always assuming Nick knows he’s been kidnapped.’

  ‘Jake knows.’

  ‘But Jake’s not telling. He seems to have another agenda.’

  ‘He’s afraid for his brother.’

  ‘Maybe. But when I offered to charge him until we found Nick, he still refused to come clean. There’s something else going on there.’ Brook stood in the darkened office and pulled on his jacket.

  ‘So that’s it? We go home and leave Nick to Ostrowsky’s mercy?’

  ‘That’s the one blessing about Jake’s confession. If Ostrowsky harms Nick, Jake is free to retract – at least until the trial.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Noble gathered a pile of papers under his arm to follow.

  Brook nodded at them. ‘Where are you going with all that?’

  ‘I didn’t get a chance to go through the clinic’s list.’

  ‘Go home and get a couple of hours’ sleep, John.’

  ‘You first,’ said Noble, pulling out his cigarettes. Brook stepped out of the office and they walked to the stairs. ‘One thing.’ Brook turned a bleary eye towards him. ‘I get that Tymon leaves the van unlocked to make it easier to discover Kassia’s body.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But how can he be sure it won’t be Max that finds her?’

  Brook stopped in his tracks and stared at Noble. A second later he sprinted back to the office and leafed furiously through Tanner’s statement. ‘After midnight. After midnight.’ He tossed the sheaf of papers down. ‘Where’s the stolen vehicle report?’

  Noble took a plastic wallet from his desk. Brook snatched the wallet and pulled out all the documents, reading frantically. A big smile broke out on his face.

  ‘John. You’re a genius.’

  Banach pulled on her coat and left the ward, her footfall echoing around the deserted corridors of the hospital. She paid for her parking ticket and trudged across the access road that ringed the hospital, towards the car park. The bright moon bestowed an undeserved lustre on the pale concrete walls of the new hospital, and the ground shimmered as she walked.

  She passed a top-of-the-range Audi that looked familiar. At the same moment she noticed a figure hidden beneath a black hoodie trying the handle of her Peugeot, parked in splendid isolation by the bushes.

  Cheeky sod. Banach hurried her step, quietly slipping her hand into her bag for the Mace and reaching for the handcuffs on her belt. The thief didn’t look much taller than her, but Banach was taking no chances. A growing number of car thieves were drug addicts, looking to fund their habit by plundering the cars of medical staff, on the ridiculous assumption that the boot would be chock full of narcotics. While such offenders might be deluded, they were also desperate and often violent.

  When Banach was only a few yards away, the thief knelt down to peer into the car, continuing to work at the door, half a tennis ball in hand, trying to create enough suction to force up the old-fashioned lock.

  As Banach approached, she caught sight of her reflection in the driver’s window and realised the thief would see it too. Sure enough, the diminutive figure dropped the mangled tennis ball and pivoted to face her, arms raised in self-defence. Although police work had taught her to expect the unexpected, Banach was shocked to see it was a young woman.

  ‘Police officer. Face the car, hands on the roof,’ she ordered, bristling with all the aggression her training had bestowed. ‘Face the car!’ she barked again.

  The young woman’s face, framed by the oval hood, was contorted with hate, eyes blazing. She seemed far removed from the run-of-the-mill drug addict or twoccer.

  ‘Last chance,’ said Banach, brandishing the Mace. After a beat, the girl turned and placed her palms on the car. Banach stepped forward and tapped the inside of the girl’s ankle with her toe to make her spread her legs, before giving her a quick frisk. Then she pulled the girl’s right arm behind her back and snapped on a cuff before doing the same to her left.

  Then she pulled out her mobile and swivelled her round. ‘Tough luck, soldier. You picked the wrong car to boost.’

  ‘You can say that again, copper.’

  Banach gazed at the young woman’s freckled face, a memory gnawing at her. ‘I know you.’ She reached out a hand to pull down the hood, and long red hair cascaded on to the girl’s shoulders. ‘My God. You’re Bernadette Murphy.’

  The prisoner stared back malevolently. ‘Well aren’t you the clever one, Constable Banach.’

  ‘You know me?’ Banach’s peripheral vision registered a darkening shadow in the driver’s window behind her, but she reacted too late to avoid the blow from behind. Her legs buckled and twitched before turning to jelly, and she fell into the waiting arms.

  ‘She’s a copper, Zeke,’ hissed Bernadette.

  ‘What?’ he answered, holding Banach upright.

  ‘You heard me. She was at the clinic the ot
her night. I took her picture for the newsletter.’

  ‘Shit. What do we do?’

  The girl considered for a few seconds. ‘Not much we can do. She knows me.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting …’

  ‘She’s got a child inside her, hasn’t she? Get the keys and get these off.’

  Zeke picked up the keys from the ground and unlocked the handcuffs before hoisting the police officer over his shoulder. Unfettered, Bernadette ran to open the van doors, then took Banach’s car keys from her handbag before throwing cuffs and bag in the van. Zeke lowered Banach carefully in after them and closed the double doors.

  ‘Plenty of cameras,’ he said, nodding at a nearby building.

  ‘Yeah, but if no one knows she was here, they’ve no reason to look at the film,’ said Bernadette. ‘You take the van. I’ll follow in the car.’

  Brook got home in the early hours and dragged his exhausted body to the shower to wash away the trials of the day. He slept for an hour before a grumbling stomach woke him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten but knew he had to take fuel on board, so he trotted downstairs at five o’clock and ate four slices of toast.

  Sipping on his mug of tea, he heard the muffled buzz from his coat pocket. It was a text from Noble, sent half an hour before.

  Ring me urgent when you get up.

  ‘Would it kill you to use good grammar?’ he mumbled, suspecting that Noble did it deliberately to annoy. He dialled and Noble picked up immediately. ‘What?’

  ‘I found something going over the Rutherford’s staff list. Every missing girl had the same nurse.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that. A senior nurse runs the preliminary appointment for all prospective patients. And if the patient proceeds, she’s assigned that nurse until discharge.’

  ‘Makes sense.’

  ‘For continuity, right,’ answered Noble. ‘That’s just it. All the missing girls were seen by the same nurse. Even Kassia Proch.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mary Moran. We met her the other night, complaining about the picket …’

  ‘I remember,’ said Brook. He took another sip of tea. ‘How many nurses run the appointments?’

  ‘Four.’